Fatal Fires
by RedInHerLedger
Summary: Scabior wants to keep Hermione for his own, but at what price? Dark Fic. Mature readers only please.
1. Chapter 1

Fatal Fires

Chapter 1

"She took my heart, I think she took my soul. With the moon I run, far from the carnage of the fiery sun." Kings of Leon

Song choice: In For The Kill By La Roux (Skream version)

Scabior knew that her scent would be his ultimate downfall. The scarf now in his possession, smelled of raspberries and chocolate. The scarf belonged to the ever elusive Hermione Granger. That night in the forest he realized her presence, her tantalizing smell consuming his every thought. Scabior suspected that the Golden Trio had been hiding out in his forest, but she confirmed it. Somehow he knew it was Hermione, he had once seen her picture and had become fascinated with the mere idea of her. A muggle-born witch could surely not be so beautiful and intelligent. Yet, he knew that she would be everything and more. The sadist in him wanted to take it from her, strip away all that she owned. It was for more reasons than one that he had hunted her for the last two days, when he finally came upon them. The tell-tale sounds of apparition sizzled in the air causing a smirk to form on his rugged features. Scabior leaned casually against the tree he had occupied and simply waited. When Hermione came into view, something strange happened. He felt a wild thrill coursing through him, like he had just discovered a rare secret. Shaking off his inane thoughts, he set his mind to the task at hand.

As his men closed in on the Golden trio, he caught Fenrir sniffing at Hermione's hair and rubbing himself against her backside. Black rage swept through him causing his vision to go red. Momentarily, Scabior was shocked at his own feelings. Trying to get a grip on his anger, he briskly walked forward, snatching her out of Fenrir's hold.

"Is there a problem, Scabior?" Fenrir sneered.

"Not yet, but soon to be if you don't keep your hands off my prize," Scabior played it off, acting as if that was the only reason he had intervened.

In truth, Scabior wasn't sure what spurred his dark thoughts, he was acting purely on instinct alone. Now holding Hermione in his grasp he took the opportunity to gaze upon her features up close. Lifting her face, he looked at the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Hermione was staring at him in stony silence, not giving anything of her emotions away, but her golden eyes screamed at him, they were so bright and full of life. Shaking himself mentally, he asked her a question he already knew the answer to.

"And who might you be, love," he whispered in her ear.

"Get away from her, you piece of shite," the red-haired boy, screamed in outrage.

"Is that your boyfriend?," Scabior asked her calmly, but his hold on her wrist increased instinctively.

"My name is Penelope Clearwater," the angel spoke in clipped tones.

"Ah, but I know different, little one," he taunted her, his eyes filled with a wicked gleam.

"If you know who I am that get on with it, and stop playing us," she rasped, as Scabior traced his fingers across her cheek.

"What's the fun in that, love? I want to play with you, and what's more, I want to hear you scream my name," Scabior whispered so that only she could hear him.

"Look Scabior, it's Harry Potter. I can make out his scar just as well as you can. Stop your fucking around, and lets turn them in," Fenrir yelled, disgusted with wasting time.

"Take me then, leave them. It's me Voldemort wants," Harry spoke for the first time.

"Harry, no!" Hermione screamed, while Ron watched on in fear.

Scabior found himself in a predicament beyond his imagining. He wanted the girl, and not just temporarily.


	2. Chapter 2

Fatal Fires

Chapter 2

"I'm going in for the kill, I'm doing it for a thrill. Oh I'm hoping you'll understand and not let go of my hand." La Roux

Hermione's world had been falling apart since she, Harry, and Ron had been on the run from Voldemort and his network of Death Eaters. It all ended today apparently, she thought with mixed feelings of acceptance and fear. The man referred to as Scabior was holding her wrists in a painfully tight grip, and looking at her in a most peculiar way. The snatcher was intimidating, his imposing figure towering over her small frame. It was his eyes that made her apprehensive, there was something not quite right in the way his dark blue eyes penetrated every surface they landed on. An obnoxious laugh startled her previous thoughts.

"Are you fucking seeing this?" Fenrir barked out, in between fits of laughter.

"What are you on about now, what the hell did I miss?" Barnett, one of the lower ranked snatchers asked, scratching his balding head.

"Can't you see what's right in front of you? Ol' Scabior here fancies the mudblood," Fenrir shook his head in obvious disgust.

Hermione looked over at Harry and Ron who both appeared to be in a state of disbelief. Not wanting to meet the snatcher's eyes, her mind quickly started planning an escape. Unfortunately, the only rational plan at the moment, that didn't lead to immediate death, was to remain quiet.

"Malfoy Manor," Scabior's voice sounded somewhat strangled.

It was deathly quiet as they disapparated to the Malfoy's estate. At that point time sped up in way that had Hermione's senses reeling. Scabior still held one of her wrists, but not as tightly. The Manor loomed up ahead, it's landscape immaculate and fearsome all at once. Cloaked figures waited at the gates as the wind picked up, blowing Hermione's tangled curls from her face. They came to an abrupt stop, Scabior wrapping his arm around her shoulders, making Hermione swallow audibly.

"To what occasion do we owe the pleasure?, Lucius sneered in his usual distaste.

"Harry Potter," Fenrir said with satisfaction, roughly pulling Harry's hair back to reveal the scar.

"My God," Bellatrix, who now stood by Lucius, whispered in awe.

"Inside, now," Lucius gasped.

Once inside, Hermione looked around the foyer in desperation, when her eyes landed on Draco and Narcissa.

She could feel Draco's eyes following her with rapt attention, making her squirm in the snatcher's arms. Not this again, she thought, remembering his obsession with her during her last year at Hogwarts. Draco had constantly followed her and threatened to kill her if she didn't succumb to him. As if on cue, Scabior shot Draco a withering glare. Draco immediately took stock of the tall snatcher before him. Meanwhile, Hermione looked at Harry with concern. Poor Harry, he would never see a normal life. Slowly moving her eyes from her beloved friend she took in Ron's scared stance, fearing the worst for him as well. Hermione was very smart, she knew that, but this situation was beyond help. They were dangerously out numbered.

"We must be sure," Narcissa's voice filled the silence.

"Do you think they've fooled me then, sister?, Bellatrix shrieked, while Lucius looked contrite.

"Call the Dark Lord, but the girl is mine," Scabior interrupted.

"How dare you! You presume to know the Dark Lord's wishes?!," Bellatrix screamed, now beyond all reasoning.

Hermione's worst fears were now confirmed at the snatcher's words, she preferred death to torture and rape. As she looked up at the snatcher in horror all hell broke loose. Draco and Scabior had they're wands drawn on each other, both looking ready to kill.

"What's this?, Lucius asked indignantly.

At that precise moment, out of the corner of her eyes, Hermione saw Scabior swish his wand through the air in a most unusual fashion, muttering a spell she had never heard.

"I can't see!," was heard throughout the room.

It seemed that Hermione and Scabior were the only ones his spell didn't affect, as he took her arm and made ready to disapparate. Draco, although blinded, stumbled forward and managed to grab Hermione's other arm. Scabior and Draco were now pulling on each of her arms, both desperate to win her.

"Bloody hell!, " Scabior rasped, the hilarity of the situation not lost on him.

Finally, having had enough Scabior yanked on Hermione's arm hard enough to pull her out of Draco's grasp. Hermione was in pain and inner turmoil, when Scabior held out his hand. What possessed her to grab his hand she didn't know. Maybe it was shock, maybe it was destiny.


	3. Chapter 3

Authors note. Hello everyone, this is my first attempt at writing a fanfiction that will be more than just a one-shot. Obviously, I own nothing, except my depraved mind. Also, I would like to caution anyone who is reading this story. There will be some very dark elements throughout. I hope you all enjoy reading and please forgive my mistakes. I do feel as if I have somewhat rushed the story already, so I will try to put things into more detail. Thank you!

Fatal Fires

Chapter 3

"Showing no mercy, I'd do it again. Open up your eyes, you keep on crying, baby I'll bleed you dry." Kings of Leon

Scabior was holding Hermione's hand in a death grip as they appeared in a forest that was not well-known to his fellow snatchers. Fear, loss, and shock were clearly written all over Hermione's features. Scabior almost felt sorry for her, almost. However, his desire to chain her up and throw away the key took precedence. His thoughts had never been so carnal and raw in all of his thirty-two years of existence. This woman-child brought out emotions in him that he had never dreamt of, and a small part of him despised her for it. Scabior felt the resentment building, as he realized that he would be on the run for the rest of his life. They would never know a peaceful existence together, but a bigger part of him realized that she was worth it. Hermione's deep and shaking breaths alerted him to the probability that she may need comforting. As he went to pull her closer, she let out a banshee scream that caused chills to run up his spine.

"Calm down now, love. I've got you, you're safe with me," he assured her, but was taken aback when she raked her nails down his face.

"Take me back, take me back now!" she demanded, her chest heaving as she took a step back from him.

"You're not going back, not now, not ever," he grimaced as blood ran down his scratched face.

"Please, I'm begging you. My friends…please, please, please," she fell to her knees before him.

"No," he growled.

"You don't understand…Harry and Ron are my best friends. I left them, and they're going to be killed!"

"I said, no," he bit out, irrational jealousy beginning to take over.

"You have no heart!" she cried in despair as he yanked her up by her hair.

"You never answered my question, is that red-haired buffoon your boyfriend?"

"What are you on about?! Harry and Ron are like my brothers, I love them!"

"Love," he snarled under his breath.

"Yes, I've known them practically all of my life. Don't you have anyone that you love, a mother perhaps?" she asked softly.

"Shut up!" he yelled in her face, shaking her by her shoulders.

"Please sir, I've made a horrible mistake. I only want to save them, can't you see? I'll do anything you ask, if you'll only help me. Maybe there is good inside you, have you ever thought of that?"

"Sorry love, but you're stuck with me, and I'm not a good man. You will never see your friends again."

"Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!" she screamed at him, as she realized he would not help her.

Hermione went ballistic. She clawed, slapped and punched at him until she could fight no more. She went boneless in his arms and cried her heart out. She was beyond recognition when he threw her to the ground face first.

"You keep on crying, and I'm going to fuck you senseless," Scabior whispered in her ear.

Hermione was unresponsive to his threat, and simply lay there as if dead. Dark thoughts took over as Scabior thought about her and the red-haired boy together.

"Or have you already been fucked enough? How many have you been with?" he yelled.

Hermione still made no response, so he decided to take matters into his own hands. He had to know. Shackling her wrists in one hand, he roughly pulled her pants and knickers down. He bent his head down and moisturized her small pussy with his tongue. Seconds later he tried to shove his middle finger inside of her only to be met with resistance.

"Ahhhhh!" she screamed in pain.

"Thank God," he rasped, as he planted soft kisses on her generous ass.

Scabior was elated to know that he would be her first and only. He gently pulled her pants up and turned her over, staring deeply into her golden eyes. His heart stuttered as he heard her broken whisper.

"Are you happy now?"


	4. Chapter 4

Fatal Fires

"At this point in my life I've done so many things wrong, I don't know if I can do right." Tracy Chapman

A purple hue had taken over the evening sky, while a lone star seemed to be blinking down at them. All was eerily quiet except the ragged breathing of a certain Snatcher. Hermione and Scabior lay together on the cold ground, limbs twisted together in a lover's fashion when in reality their hearts couldn't be further apart.

"I'm sorry." He whispered softly.

Hermione continued to ignore him as she couldn't bring herself to care about a response. Why did he torment her, and why did he save her? Her mind could not comprehend any of his actions, but he definitely appeared to be insane. Just my luck, she thought dismally, out of the frying pan and into the fire. In the back of her mind she knew Harry and Ron were probably dead by now or at the very least in a situation she couldn't help them with. Shuddering inwardly, she pushed that thought even further back into the recesses of her mind. Hermione simply couldn't afford to think that way and have her own sanity remain intact.

"Please, look at me," he beseeched her in a small and almost child-like voice.

"What? What can you possibly have to say to me?" she asked wearily, turning her head to look into his disturbingly handsome face. She knew his looks should be the last thing on her mind, but his dark beauty was hard to ignore. Dragon, she thought feverishly, an image of a dragon flying high and torching everything in its path came to her mind's eye. Hermione's eyes began to close as she shook the thought away.

"I want it to be different between us," he confessed, but the girl had closed her eyes and was snoring softly.

Damn it, he swore internally. He didn't recognize himself anymore, he had been with many women but never had he felt like this. He didn't want to hurt her but he didn't know any other way to get through to her. He wanted her to understand his intentions without having to tell her, he wanted her to feel something for him, besides disgust. Laying his head back on the ground, his thoughts drifted into unwanted territories.

*Flashback*

"I said I didn't want to discuss it further," a man yelled at his wife.

"Why must you shut us out of everything?" she raged.

"Have you ever thought that maybe, just maybe, I don't want you anymore? I'm tired of your nagging ways, you stupid bitch. I'm tired of pretending to care about you and the boy."

"You can't mean it, "she looked grief-stricken, as she ran after him.

"You're pathetic!" he taunted her, while back-handing her so hard she flew across the room.

"Please, don't leave us," she whimpered, her blue eyes glistening as she tried to pick herself up. The woman knew that she and her small son would starve if he deserted them.

The walls of the dank room shook as the front door slammed shut. Underneath the only bed in the house, a small boy watched as his mother wiped her face and took a deep breath. Tears shone down his dirt-smudged face as he made his way to his mother, clasping her hand in his tiny fingers.

"Scabior, come to mommy. Everything will be okay, I will take care of us somehow," she whispered brokenly, picking him up and holding him tightly.

*End Flashback*

An owl sounded in the distance, shaking Scabior out of his trance. It was now completely dark, so he took out his wand and cast a spell that his mother had taught him. A campfire came to life, blazing on the forest floor. As he put his wand back in his coat pocket he felt Hermione's wand still safely tucked away. He knew that she realized he had it, and was surely planning a way to retrieve it. He briefly considered snapping it in half when he heard her coming to.

Hermione sat up, feeling the warmth from the fire. She looked at Scabior, searching his hardened eyes for any sign of intention. She could read nothing from him, she saw only a man staring into a fire. His eyes had turned into a molten blue as he finally made eye contact with her amber ones. There was something in the way he looked at her that made her neck hairs stand on end.

"Are you cold?" he asked, coming closer, offering her a blanket that he had conjured.

"No, I do not require your assistance," she retorted.

"Don't be prideful, love," he whispered as he knelt down to encase her with the blanket.

Hermione shoved him as hard as she could, but his body barely moved. Still on bended knee, inches from her, he looked at her as if she had wounded him.

"Please, take the blanket Hermione," he forced out.

"Take the blanket and shove it up you're arse!"

"You're trying my patience!"

"I have yet to see any admirable qualities in you, least of all patience,' she snapped.

Cursing and whipping out his wand he muttered something she couldn't quite make out. She saw, but couldn't hear him as his mouth moved angrily ,while taking out his rage on a nearby tree. He looked like the devil himself, beating his fists into the tree's bark, screaming silently. She wondered what spell he had used, she was positive she had never encountered it. At the end of his tantrum he picked the blanket up and ripped it in half. His chest was heaving when his mouth moved again. Suddenly, she could hear his breathing which was quite labored. Very little surprised Hermione, but his next words shocked her.

"Teach me."


	5. Chapter 5

Warning, this chapter contains material that some readers may find disturbing (dub-con). If this is not your cup of tea please turn back now. Also, there is a Princess Bride reference for any who might catch it. Thank you!

Fatal Fires

"Is it bad that I never made love, no I never did it, but I sure know how to fuck."

Three days later

"We've camped out in the middle of nowhere for days!" Hermione raged, feeling the effects of isolation.

"Your very astute, love" Scabior snickered in response, reaching out to push a stray lock of mahogany hair behind her ear.

"Just as I asked you three days ago, what the bloody hell is our next move?" she bit out, slapping his hand away.

"Feisty! I like that."

"Ugh you are pathetic!"

"Never say that word to me again, do you hear me?" he snarled, shaking her by her frail shoulders.

"Ha! Haha! Hahahahaha!" mad laughter escaped her lips, while her head lolled on her shoulders from his man-handling.

Scabior searched her face, a queer look forming on his angry features. Any and all attempts to get close to her had failed miserably. She was determined to hate him, even after his declaration from three nights ago. Unfortunately, they had bigger problems. In a day or two they would run out of food and water. He knew it was risky but they needed to make a discreet trip into a town and collect supplies. There was no way he could leave her in the forest to her own devices, she was far too clever for his liking. She made him feel paranoid to the point of hallucination, and quite simply he needed a release from the tension.

"We're going into town to get supplies. Don't get any bright ideas, love. Try anything and you will live to rue the day," his eyes flashed in warning.

"Into town? Are we close to a town? Where are we exactly?" she asked, faking a civil tone.

"Wouldn't you like to know, love. No funny business, understood?"

Hermione shook her head in accord, the possibility of escape making her head spin. Being cooped up with this idiot was doing things to her psyche. The previous evening as he had taken his shirt off to wash, she had found it nearly impossible to stop staring at his muscled chest. Then there were his eyes, lord help her, she was losing it. Fantasizing about a man who had molested her was not on her list of priorities. Taking stock of her own appearance she realized she was quite dirty. As if reading her mind Scabior smiled and took out his wand.

"Scourgify!"

"Shouldn't you charm our appearances as well?" Hermione asked belligerently, even though she was secretly thankful for being clean.

"No, where we are going, no one will recognize us."

"We're going into a muggle town aren't we?" Hermione guessed.

"Clever witch."

"Ignorant brute," she quipped.

"Let's go," he said, gently taking hold of her elbow.

In a blur they disapparated from the forest, seconds later appearing in a muggle park. Day was turning into night as Hermione took in her surroundings. The small park was barren except for an old couple holding hands and walking together intimately. Such a simple act, but it made her wistful. Tears formed in her eyes as her parents came to mind, making her choke up. Hermione's hands clenched at her sides as she blinked several times to keep from crying openly.

"What's wrong?" Scabior asked with concern, his eyes sweeping over her.

"Nothing, I'm just tired."

"You can sleep when we return, let's go. There's a shop not far from here," he said, grabbing her hand.

"Must you always touch me?"

Scabior didn't answer as he led her down the pavement at a brisk pace. Never letting go of her hand, they made quite a pair as they walked down the street, earning more than a few curious glances. Scabior was still in a leather jacket but had opted for casual jeans, while Hermione wore jeans and a white parka, looking every inch a girl bordering on womanhood. The female population looked at him like he was something to eat, making Hermione roll her eyes. Finally arriving at a shop called the Piggly Wiggly, Scabior grabbed a cart and started loading the basket. We are definitely not in Kansas anymore, she thought, the strangeness of the situation striking Hermione as ironic. Here they were practically enemies, shopping together and in a Piggly Wiggly no less. His hold on her hand tightened painfully as she noticed a good-looking young man in his early twenties smiling at her.

"You're hurting my hand," she whispered, gritting her teeth.

"Keep your eyes to yourself then, love," he sneered.

"I am not a child to be ordered about. I can't help noticing when someone is staring at me, and I'm certainly not responsible for other people's eyes," what the hell is his problem she thought, confusion knitting her brow.

Scabior loosened his hold on her small hand while fixing the young man with a scathing glare. The stranger was oblivious to his look and kept smiling at Hermione, his gaze dipping to linger on Hermione's ripe breasts. Scabior's hand itched to grab his wand and curse the fool into oblivion for daring to gaze upon that which he considered his. He was beginning to realize that he was a very jealous man. To make his point crystal clear, he shoved Hermione up against the food aisle, forcing her mouth open to receive his demanding kiss.

She was taken aback as his lips forced hers open, the taste of peppermint filling her mouth. His tongue swirled inside her mouth making her senses dull, her arms hanging helplessly by her sides. His hands started to wander, fingertips caressing her hipbone in a circular motion, making her insides ache. Suddenly he pulled away, his eyes promising something she could barely comprehend. Breathing deeply, she tried to get a hold of unfamiliar emotions.

"You're like a child," she admonished, beginning to realize the cause for his erratic behavior, while trying to cover up her lack of disgust.

"You like it," he smirked, his hard-on obvious through his jeans.

The young man was long gone and no one else was in sight as he led her down another aisle. Still trying to control her breathing, Hermione decided to chance fate, she simply couldn't stand another moment in his presence. Steeling herself and hoping for the best she kicked him in the shin as hard she could, taking him by surprise. For good measure she punched him in the stomach, making him double over. Not sparing him another glance she ran for the store entrance, colliding with the same young man from earlier.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Please help me," she begged him, taking him by the arm and running out into the parking-lot.

"Miss, should I phone the police?"

"Where's your car, hurry," she glanced back to see Scabior not far behind them.

They ran to his car, getting in quickly. Just as she shut her door, Scabior violently wrenched it open, yanking her out by her hair. Scared out her of wits she reached up and yanked his long hair in return, hoping to distract him. Instead she seemed to only enrage him further as she felt his other hand come around to her neck, squeezing the air from her lungs. Finally giving up, she let go of his hair, making him release her neck.

"That, my dear, was unwise," he got out through ragged breaths, whipping his wand out and obliviating the boy who had just gotten out of the car.

Seething with unbridled rage, Scabior looked around to see that they had fortunately not drawn a crowd. Dragging Hermione by her arm, he walked towards the basket he had left at the entrance. He wheeled the basket full of stolen goods, while continuing to drag her by the arm, towards a tree line on the edge of the parking-lot. Reaching a leafy enclosure, they disapparated on the spot.

Back in the forest Scabior threw the basket aside. Still holding her arm in a bruising grip, he raised his hand to slap her face. Hearing her small whimper made him flinch and drop his hand before actually slapping her. Instead he raped her mouth with a brutal kiss, ripping her parka from her shaking form. Tugging her thin shirt and bra down he palmed her breasts, pulling on her nipples viciously, making her cry out in pain.

"You belong to me, acknowledge it, accept it," he rasped in her ear.

"I'll never belong to a man such as you! You're foul, loathsome, and… pathetic!" she retaliated, remembering his reaction to that particular word.

"I would not say such things if I were you!"

Throwing her to the ground he quickly straddled her, throwing one leg over each side of her legs. He bit her bottom lip before pulling her pants down around her knees. Lifting his face from hers he spit on his middle finger looking her dead in the eyes as he rubbed his finger against her silky folds.

"Go ahead, fuck me!" she cried out, beyond all reason now.

Hermione saw his eyes glaze over as he managed to thrust one finger inside her, making her legs tighten. He was panting heavily as moved his finger in and out of her slowly. She heard his zipper being undone and froze, knowing what was coming next. She felt his hardness seeking entrance, while a stinging sensation began to take root.

"Ugh fuuuuck," he yelled, thrusting into her incredible tightness in one fluid motion, ripping through her barrier.

He barely heard her cry out, a fog clouding his thoughts, as he slowly moved in and out of her small pussy. His pussy. He looked down at her tear streaked face, gentling his movements in an attempt to calm her. Reaching down he rubbed her deliciously pink nub, hoping she could derive some kind of pleasure from her first time. Hearing her moan made him lose his tight-leashed grip on reality. His pace quickened, his thrusts deepening as he bit down on her neck. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, and the last of his restraint vanished. His balls slapped against her core as fucked her into the ground.

"Fuck yeah, that's it love, lm going to come in my pussy," he choked out, his jaw slackening from blinding pleasure as a came inside of her in great spurts.

Hermione bit down on her tongue to keep from crying out as she orgasmed for the first time in her life. It was pleasure and pain mixed into one entity. It was horrific, it was beautiful.


	6. Chapter 6

"My old man is bad man but I can't deny the way he holds my hand and he grabs me, he has me by my heart. My old man is a tough man but he's got a soul as sweet as blood-red jam, and he shows me he knows me, every inch of my tar-black soul." Lana Del Ray

Waking up alone, Hermione knew her life had been forever changed. Wandless, friendless, and desperate for salvation, she knew that she was hanging on by a thin thread. She had given herself to Scabior, utterly and irrevocably. The man was a force to be reckoned with, vowing that he would never give her up. After last night she was starting to wonder if she would really mind being owned by a man like him. He had awoken feelings in her that she had never known, but a small voice in the back of her mind told her to keep fighting, keep hoping for escape. Had she really been reduced to a simpering damsel after one night of mind-blowing sex? No, she wouldn't let herself be taken over by this man, at least that's what she told herself.

"Good morning, love," Scabior's voice broke through her thoughts, as he appeared out of nowhere.

"What's so good about it?" she snapped, angry with herself and him.

"Ah, there she is. I knew you hadn't lost your spirit, eh?"

"Fuck off."

"Now, now don't be put out, love. I know you enjoyed last night just as much as I did."

"Oh, you're insufferable!"

Hermione gingerly stood up, gasping at the soreness in between her legs. She felt weirdly off-kilter, and probably would have fallen if it wasn't for Scabior's hand reaching out to steady her.

"What's wrong?" he asked, leaning in to smell her hair, the scent of raspberries making his cock twitch.

"Nothing," she replied curtly, hardly believing the man could be that dense.

"Don't make me ask again," he gently shook her shoulders.

"I'm sore, you idiot!"

"Fuck," he swore, raking his hand through his hair, making it appear even more wild than before.

He started pacing the forest floor mumbling under his breath, making Hermione feel ill at ease. He was obviously bothered by her admission. The man was a complete paradox, he had no problem fucking her within an inch of her life last night, but now he was suddenly bothered by her discomfort. He took out his wand, aiming it at her with a shaking hand.

"What are doing?!" she yelled in sudden terror.

"I'm trying to help you. What did you think I was going to do?" his voice was angry.

"I don't want you're help."

"And why might that be, love?" he took a menacing step towards her.

"I want to remember this. The pain you caused me, I don't want it erased with magic. I won't have your guilt appeased so that you can sleep better at night," she spoke truthfully, wanting to hurt him.

"You bitch! Why do you have to be so bloody difficult? You want pain? How about a nice fuck up against this tree? Will that help you?" he raged, nostrils flaring.

"Fine. Do it!" she taunted him.

Scabior walked away, shaking his head in confusion and anger. For the life of him, he couldn't understand her. He knew he was the cause of her turmoil, but he didn't want to face the truth of the situation. He wanted her, but she may never want him in return. Why would she? He had brutally ripped her away from her former life, forcing her to accept him. Sure, he had lost his head last night, but she had brought that on herself when she tried to escape with that boy. He also knew he had fucked up any chance he had in making her trust him, so this morning before she woke he sought to redeem himself in her eyes. He had disapparated to Diagon Alley to search out any news of what had happened to her friends and to update himself on the war that was raging within the wizarding world. Not a soul recognized him as he had glamoured his appearance. The information he sought was found very quickly and with ease, the entire wizarding world was abuzz of Hermione's disappearance and what had become of Harry Potter.

"I have news of your beloved friends," he sneered, deciding to use his knowledge to his benefit at that very moment.

"What?" she whipped around, disbelief coloring her tone.

"Your friends are alive, they escaped Malfoy Manor with the aid of a house-elf," he scoffed, watching her closely.

"Oh thank God!" she began to cry in earnest, an overwhelming sense of relief making her dizzy. The truth of his words shone in his eyes, making her shake with emotion.

He walked over to her, embracing her quivering form, whispering words of comfort. Scabior was taken aback when she leaned into him, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt as she wept, tears soaking his chest. He smiled, knowing that he had earned her appreciation. It was a small victory, but a victory all the same. He laid her down, holding her possessively to him, and she let him. Such an act was a form of submission to him, and little did she know…submission becomes a habit that forms the strongest of chains.


	7. Chapter 7

"No retreat from the world can mask what is in your face."  
― Gregory Maguire, Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West

Hermione had always considered herself to be an intelligent person. At present, she wasn't so sure. Her emotions were completely off the wall, and her thinking was even worse. Her problem was life in general, it always had been. She used books and knowledge to her benefit, but in the end it only secured her a position of hiding. She hid behind what she knew and was afraid of what she didn't. Scabior had changed her for better and for worse. She knew now that she cared for this man because he needed her. Why he needed her she wasn't sure, but everyone in her life needed her for something and therein the attachment grew. This particular involvement was nothing like she had ever known. She had never been forced into feelings, she only ever gave them away. She was forced to look at things she never had before, only to find that she liked them, craved them even. She craved the power she felt when she was with Scabior. The feeling of being desired was strange and addicting. She felt something quicken inside of her when he looked at her with those piercing blue eyes. She felt her insides go haywire at his slightest touch. Finally he had given her a reason to return his obsession, he had gifted her with the sweetest information and at no cost. He hadn't made her beg, she knew that he had told her of Harry and Ron so that he could simply get in her good graces. Somehow, she was grateful. She was also tired, exhaustion was taking over. The recent emotional onslaught had taken its toll.

"Shhh, sleep," Scabior whispered in her ear, he was still holding her from behind, gently stroking her hair.

Fifteen minutes later, Scabior heard Hermione's light snoring. His heart was content knowing that she was relieved and safe, with him. The things she had taught him! He felt like a different person when he was with her. He knew that she had a greatness inside of her, and that one day he might be worthy of her. One day. Hermione's wand suddenly started vibrating in his jacket pocket, at first he tried to ignore it but the shaking proceeded to get worse. Slowly removing his arms from around her torso he sat up, taking her wand out.

"Harry. Ron. Gringotts. DANGER," he read the glowing words that appeared across Hermione's wand.

Scabior was impressed that she had managed such a spell on her wand, such a spell would require both Harry and Ron's wands as well as their blood and dark magic. Hermione was definitely a bright witch. The wand continued vibrating most violently. At first he shrugged inwardly, but looking down at Hermione's peaceful face he knew what he would do. Making no noise he stood up and took out his wand, casting a spell on Hermione's sleeping frame to ensure that she would sleep until he returned. He disapparated to Gringotts, making a decision he would remember for the rest of his life.

Appearing before the bank, he snuck inside without being seen. He hid behind a stone pillar, listening to the ongoing conversation.

"I'm Bellatrix Lestrange, I swear it!"

"No, I am. This fool is an imposter! Do you doubt me? Shall I call the dark lord?!"

Peeking beyond the pillar, Scabior saw two Bellatrix's standing off from one another, both of their wands drawn, while a very confused looking crowd gathered. Ducking back behind the pillar, Scabior knew that either Harry or Ron had polyjuiced themselves. Which one was really Bellatrix? He would save Bellatrix, he thought suddenly, and all would be forgiven with the dark lord. It would be too simple really. He should take his chances with the powers that be, and turn in Hermione's friends. Regrets be damned! Bellatrix surely did not know that Harry Potter was within arms-reach. It was cruel, but then again maybe the dark lord would let him keep Hermione without fear of reprisal. The dark side would win, but he knew that already. Or, did he? Hermione's face flashed before his eyes, weakening his resolve. She was everything good and pure, everything to him. Like his mother, Hermione always chose the weaker side. His mother. Infuriated with himself at his own weakness he made his presence known.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" He voiced with false bravado, but inside he was reeling with apprehension.

Both Bellatrix's turned to face him, and he knew who the real Bellatrix was in an instant, her crazed expression giving her away. The situation was surreal.

"You!" the real Bellatrix shouted in outrage, while the polyjuiced Bellatrix looked taken-aback.

Looking into the eyes of the fake Bellatrix, Scabior felt the beginnings of remorse. The polyjuice was beginning to wear off and Scabior knew that he was looking into the green eyes of Harry Potter.

"WHAT is going on here?!," Bellatrix screamed. Looking at her, Scabior opened his mouth…but nothing came out.

He stood rooted to the spot, his earlier scheming all but forgotten. Hermione. Amber eyes, soft, giving. Her smile, her taste, her hope. She was his only hope. Before he knew what he was doing he brandished his wand at the real Bellatrix and cast the spell. Time slowed down to a foreign tempo.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The presence of death engulfed Gringotts, and when Scabior turned to leave he stood face to face with the dark lord himself.


End file.
